


Invicta

by senshoo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Battle Royale - Freeform, Choose Your Own Adventure, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poll, References to Depression, Violent Language, Yuri Calling Yuuri a Pig, Yuri Plisetsky is a Brat, murder ideation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-06-05 14:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15172658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senshoo/pseuds/senshoo
Summary: All at one, Victor’s heart beats with pity for him. He will be among the first to die tomorrow. And yet still, he murmurs to Yakov: “Who is he?”Yakov turns his gaze to Victor’s face and then follows his stare to the awkward figure across the room from them. “That’s Yuuri Katsuki. District 6. The iron forging and hot springs district.”Victor nods, unable to look away from him. “He doesn’t seem like he will pose much of a threat.”Yakov agrees with a quiet huff of breath. “Rumor is that he had put his name up for Bid Day so many times for the extra money that it was hardly a question that he would be chosen to represent his district.” A pause. “He seems like a good kid…” Yakov murmurs. It should have been a pleasant remark to make about someone else, but coming from Yakov with that precise tone of pity, it sounds more like an insult.--Alternatively: The Yuri on Ice Hunger Games AU





	1. Victor

**Author's Note:**

> I know that this isn't the next chapter of Hide and Seek, but I'm hoping to have that up for you guys by tomorrow! I'm really excited about this au, and so I hope that you enjoy this, as well! The next chapter is going to be from Yuuri's point of view and will include some more worldbuilding sort of stuff as well as his point of view of the banquet and the beginning of the Grand Prix
> 
> ((i'm senshoo on tumblr))

Victor is sixteen years old when he wins his first Grand Prix. By all accounts, Victor should have been one of the first to die: he was young and reckless and had wore childhood innocence like a second skin. However, Victor was also vicious and light on his feet. He tore his way through tribute after tribute with such ferocity and foolish recklessness that his stamina should have given out on him hours before it finally does. His viciousness quickly makes him a fan favorite and before too much time spent in the arena, sponsorship offerings begin to make their way to him. First aid sprays, food, a set of matches. All things that get him a little further. All things that guarantee that someone else will not.

At the time, it had been addicting to know that people all across the globe were watching him. At first, it had felt like victory. Had felt like Victor had accomplished something quite grand.

When the council demands that Victor participate in the next year’s Grand Prix, Victor does not say no. When he goes undefeated, they repeat their demands. Before long, it's hard to tell where Victor ends and where the nation’s champion begins. Before long, all Victor knows is the arena. The blood pounding, deep mud, phantom of it all.  

\--

Victor does not awaken as much as he simply becomes aware that he is no longer sleeping. His eyes blink open and there is no hesitancy in the way he drags himself upward. His bedroom is cold and his body is heavy but he has no time for delays.

The Grand Prix begins tomorrow.

Tonight Victor will attend the annual banquet, a chance for the tributes to scramble for last minute sponsorships before they will be tossed into the arena like sacrifices to a vengeful god. Victor is not new to the Grand Prix, and so he is aware of how important the next twenty-four hours will be for him. Winning the Grand Prix requires equal parts cunning and intimidation, so any opportunity that he has to shake feeble confidence from the bones of his competitors, he will take.

This year, Yakov has decided to take on a new student alongside Victor, and so while Yakov is coaching him, Victor is left to his own devices. As the reigning champion for the better part of a decade, there are few who wouldn’t sacrifice nearly anything to see Victor knocked from the podium. In some ways, Yakov is not different from them. Victor is okay with it. He had needed a mentor when he was sixteen years old and new to the Grand Prix. He doesn’t particularly need one, now.

Tonight will be the first time that all of the tributes are to see each other for the first time. Victor spends the hours leading up to the banquet plucking stray eyebrow hairs and brushing his silver strands until they gleam. With every layer he paints onto his face, he imagines his skin growing thicker and thicker. Just like armor.

He smiles at his reflection in the mirror before he leaves and hardly recognizes the creature who leers back at him.

\--

The Grand Prix banquet is typically an unremarkable event. Everybody who is anybody has flooded the large hall of the capital’s training facility to schmooze with the tributes and determine who has the best chances of beating Victor. That was the name of the game, at this point, and it had been ever since Victor had been the one to make it so.

Victor won his first Grand Prix when he was only sixteen years old. His eventual victory had come in the wake of some quick thinking in the arena that had led him to best the then-current reigning champion of the games. Lambiel had gone down like a sack of rocks, tumbling through wet leaves and into the rumbling river that had swallowed him whole. Victor had been the one to push him.

After that, things had changed. Victor’s family had been paid handsomely and their son had been moved into the Victory Tower, a creeping monolith whose looming presence could be seen from every corner of the capital. Victor hadn’t been expected to last in the next Grand Prix. He was a willowy, wisp of a child and the fact that he had won, at all, had been a shock to the nation. But Victor didn’t fall in the next games. And he didn’t fall after that, either. He just kept _winning_.

He can almost feel Yakov’s gruff words dancing around him. _Victors are not born, Vitya. They are made. Forged._ And Victor certainly had been forged by the Grand Prix. Melted down into nothing and reshaped into something harder. Sharper. Stronger. A winner. And though Victor was very tired of winning and often thought of just letting some new child push him from his tower like he had so ruthlessly pushed Lambiel, Victor is not yet ready to succumb.

And so Victor does what he is supposed to: he smiles and winks and charms his way through the room, gathering sponsors to his side like flies to honey. His scalp stung from where product had been scraped and burned through it and his eyes twitched with the weight of the makeup that had been meticulously rubbed into his flesh, but Victor never let his smile fall.

Beside him, Yakov’s newest charge, Yuri Plisetsky, is a caged animal clawing at the confines of his own prison.

“You’re not going to get anyone to sponsor you with that look on your face.” Victor murmurs past the tense lines of his smile. His voice is equal parts warning and resignation.

Yuri scoffs, crossing thin arms over his chest. “Like I need these fuckheads, anyways. _I’m_ the one who is going into the arena. What the fuck do I care about some capital-pig who feels like throwing some bills my way.

Yakov appears over Yuri’s shoulder, pinching the thin skin at the base of Yuri’s neck roughly. “These ‘capital-pigs’ might be the difference between having a first aid kit and not. Nothing matters in the arena other than survival. You’ll wish you had sucked up to them a little when you’re bleeding out on the forest floor.”

Victor winces in sympathy when he sees Yuri dig his sharp nails into Yakov’s arm. He had chosen to have them modified in preparation of the Grand Prix. Now, they were harder than steel.

Yakov yelps in pain and grabs at Yuri’s wrist, tightening his grip until Yuri has no choice but to loosen his hold. “You listen here, kid. I’ve been through this for nearly a decade with Victor here. Everyone in this room could care less if you’re one of the first to die tomorrow so make no mistake, if I tell you that you need these people on your side then you _do_.”

Victor sighs heavily and turns his attention away from the warring pair beside him. Predictably, nearly everyone, himself included, is dressed to the nines. Its particularly easy to spot everyone from the capital: bright colors and gravity defying hairstyles marking them as different from the other tributes who look more like polished stone pretending to be precious gems.

But then, something, or rather _someone_ , catches his attention.

There, lingering near the champagne display, is a boy who isn’t trying to be a polished stone. In fact, it rather looks to Victor as if he isn’t trying to be much of anything. HIs hair is messy and his skin is pale and his blazer is much too large for his slight frame. He doesn’t seem to be talking to anyone and when he finally turns so that Victor can have a better look at him, the uncomfortable expression on his face informs Victor that, perhaps, he isn’t quite sure _how_ to.

All at one, Victor’s heart beats with pity for him. He will be among the first to die tomorrow. And yet still, he murmurs to Yakov: “Who is he?”

Yakov turns his gaze to Victor’s face and then follows his stare to the awkward figure across the room from them. “That’s Yuuri Katsuki. District 6. The iron forging and hot springs district.”

Victor nods, unable to look away from him. “He doesn’t seem like he will pose much of a threat.”

Yakov agrees with a quiet huff of breath. “Rumor is that he had put his name up for Bid Day so many times for the extra money that it was hardly a question that he would be chosen to represent his district.” A pause. “He seems like a good kid…” Yakov murmurs. It should have been a pleasant remark to make about someone else, but coming from Yakov with that precise tone of pity, it sounds more like an insult.

But then, Yuuri looks up and meets Victor’s gaze and Victor feels as if he sees something that he isn’t meant to in the steely stare that coldly glances over his figure before moving back to his face. Victor is struck frozen, turned to stone in the wake of such a heavy glance. Thankfully, Yakov has turned his attention back to dealing with Yuri, otherwise Victor is certain that he would have received a firm scolding for the amount of attention he is affording Yuuri Katsuki.

But then, Yuuri Katsuki is making his way towards Victor and Victor is so helplessly entangled in the way the lights reflect in Yuuri’s eyes that he is helpless to do anything other than to remain precisely where he is. In the back of his mind, he wonders what is happening to him, but his body does not move away as Yuuri Katsuki begins to walk towards him.

Yuuri drifts towards Victor like a feather caught in a breeze and only when they are nearly nose to nose does Victor allow his held breath to escape in a single, quivering puff of air. Yuuri must do the same because Victor can taste alcohol in the air, but he doesn’t step away.

There is a softness about Yuuri Katsuki’s features that makes Victor’s his hands twitch at his side with the effort it takes to not reach out and test its softness for himself. Instead, Victor pastes a facsimile of a smile on his lips and curls his hands into fists.

“Hello there.” He murmurs with the feigned confidence of a man who should be proud of his status as reigning champion. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Yuuri’s head shakes only slightly. “No. I don’t believe we have. Though everyone knows who you are, Victor Nikiforov.”

Victor’s head tilts in allowance. Yuuri is not wrong. “And so what should everyone know about _you_ , Yuuri Katsuki?”

There is only the slightest hint of a flush on Yuuri’s cheeks. Just enough that Victor knows it's there. The sight of it unfurling onto Yuuri’s cheeks like a rose in bloom sends a thrill rushing through Victor’s veins and slamming straight into his heart.

“Well...for now, I think you should know that I want to dance with you.”

Victor’s brows furrow. The banquet is not for dancing. The banquet is for lies and deception. What is Yuuri getting at? He smooths the expression away quickly enough that he hopes Yuuri hadn’t seen it. Weakness is not a luxury that Victor has in abundance. But still, he wants to reach out.

“And why would you want that, Yuuri Katsuki? We’re meant to kill each other in twenty-four hours.”

Yuuri does flinch this time. “I know that. I just thought…” He glances away. Somewhere over Victor’s shoulder. “Well, I thought it might be nice to do something pleasant before everything tomorrow.”

Victor gestures to one of the cameras tucked away in a corner. Everyone in all of the districts is watching them, now. “Are you hoping to win the public’s favor by getting close to me? It won’t work. I’ve been a fan favorite for years, now.”

Yuuri’s eyes are molten iron when they meet his. “Is it so hard to believe that I am being genuine?”

Victor chuckles quietly. “No one is genuine here.”

“Then,” Yuuri begins, licking his lips. They’re chapped. Victor wants to kiss him. This desire nearly goes unchecked until Victor is aware of its presence and the shock of it turns him to stone. “Let’s be ingenuine together. Since you’re well aware of the scam I’m running, it should have no effect on you, at all.”

The audacity of this boy! Victor is the reigning _champion_ . He has torn his way through so many tributes that Yuuri is hardly a pebble standing before a mountain. No one. _No one_. Has ever dared to approach Victor at a banquet and...do what? Seduce him? Is that what this is? Victor nearly denies the other, outright, before something makes him pause.

It's quiet, pulsing in the back of his mind. It’s a silly, stupid, immature impulse, but Victor can’t help but wonder what harm could come from dancing with Yuuri. Yuuri is going to die tomorrow. What threat will he pose to Victor after that? What harm could come from allowing himself just a hint of softness, for once. Quite frankly, quite a bit, but Victor is reminded of his own exhaustion when he looks at Yuuri, sees almost a fraction of it reflected back at him. He remembers what Yakov had told him. That this boy had put his name up for selection time and time again for the money. Victor had been like that, once.

The truth of the matter is that Victor is tired and desperate for any sort of human touch that doesn’t leave him positively gutted. What no one tells you about victory is how lonely it is, and Victor has been lonely for so long that it’s a physical weight on his heart. Yuuri reminds Victor of what he used to be like, before the Grand Prix had chewed him up, spit him out, and the capital had polished up the remains.

He could turn away, he supposed. Accuse Yuuri of trickery and simply walk away. But Yuuri’s palms are warm and Victor is beginning to feel the hints of something other than crushing survivor’s guilt for the first time in a really long time.

Victor finds himself nodding before he is really aware of it.

After that, its a whirlwind. They drink. They dance. They drink some more. They are the only tributes truly enjoying themselves. They are drawing all sorts of attention. Victor knows that Yuuri must be manipulating him. That tomorrow, he will have even more difficulty doing what needs to be done. That tomorrow, he will have to pretend that this never happened.

Victor doesn’t care.

\--

In a different life, in a different place, Victor and Yuuri might have belonged to each other. The thought comes without preamble and it startles Victor back to reality. Yuuri has him pressed against a wall in the hallway just outside the banquet hall.

Victor isn’t sure what he’s meant to do with Yuuri Katsuki. He isn’t sure if he’s meant to kill him or pull him closer. The boy has managed to grab hold of Victor’s every thought and twist it into a fascinated investigation of him. Of his eyes, his hair, his nose. Victor knows that he will have to kill Yuuri. That he should _want_ to kill him. But heedless of his rationality, the desire to kiss Yuuri is beginning to win out. Victor finds himself swinging between desire and fear like an ever moving pendulum.

The templated softness of Yuuri’s features is half formed, as if Yuuri had been whittled from marble by a sculptor who left him unfinished. Victor does not have the luxury of softness. Everyone in all of the districts knows precisely who Victor Nikiforov is and so he must survive on cruelty and fear. It’s hard to be cruel to people like Yuuri, who is trying so desperately to be cunning, but that is simply the nature of the Grand Prix.

They’re drunk and stumbling and this isn’t the place and Yuuri shouldn’t be the one. But Victor is _burning_. As if a single glance from Yuuri had sparked a flame on the touch-starved flint of Victor’s heart and now, he has been struck both dumb and helpless. Yuuri’s mouth is everywhere, peppering kisses along his jawline before nipping at Victor’s earlobe and then trailing across a flushed cheek. Victor tries feebly to keep up by dragging a hand through Yuuri’s hair and tugging him closer by the hip.

This is a bad decision. Victor knows it. He won’t regret it, but the aftershocks of how thoroughly Yuuri will reorient Victor’s world will be felt, all the same. The others will notice that they’ve disappeared from the banquet. They will assume that Yuuri is a liability for Victor who is otherwise untouchable.

They might be correct.

But Victor _wants_ so badly that he can’t stop now. Couldn’t even if tried. And Yuuri, that night haired catalyst, is grinning up at Victor with a look in his eye that says _take me, take me, I’m yours_.

The orgasm that rips through Victor’s core sends him into such jolting aftershocks that he helplessly snarls Yuuri’s name through bitten lips, tugging roughly at the shock of black hair under his nose once. Twice. Three times. Yuuri keens into the damp skin of Victor’s neck before he follows suit, biting into the flesh before him harshly enough to have Victor pulling at the back of Yuuri’s neck in an attempt to set himself free.

Victor’s pants are ruined but his embarrassment is nothing compared to his own shocked disgust at his own actions. With his lust momentarily staved, Victor cannot ignore the warning bells that are ringing with such ferocity in his head that he stumbles away from Yuuri with wide eyes.

This had obviously been a set up. Yuuri was obviously trying to get Victor weakened to him. Trying to get close enough to Victor that in the arena, Victor might think twice before taking him out. Victor isn’t an idiot. He can see that while Yuuri is physically strong, he isn’t the sort to make it long in the arena. He isn’t like Yuri who is all willowy ferocity or Victor who has done this before.

It was self preservation, really. And Victor had been an idiot to fall for it.

He leaves Yuuri there in the hallway, still panting against the wall. Yuuri does not call out for him.

\--

Beyond the murky shadows of some soon to be forgotten dream, Victor’s mind is tumbling with thoughts of Yuuri Katsuki. Victor could admit to himself that as far as obsessions went, Yuuri Katsuki was unextraordinary, but adjusting to being around the boy all the time was proving difficult.

He can see a pair of warm, brown eyes flashing through his mind and it is that image that wakes him from his restless sleep. His pillow, positively mauled, was bleeding white feathers over his closed fist.

He allows his body to waken from its poor attempts at slumber. Today is the day that the Grand Prix begins, anyway.

He pulls himself from bed and moves to the bathroom. He has enough time to luxuriate in the bath for one last time before he will had subjected to the filth of the arena.

Normally, he would draw the firm, wooden bath brush to his hands and scrub, scrub, scrub until he was certain that there could be nothing left but pale skin behind. But then, he would lift his weary body from the water and glance down at his hands only to see skin rubbed raw, a pulsing red that spread up his forearms. There was no escape from the color and even in his most desperate attempts to rid his body of it, he only made it worse.

Today, though, his thoughts are warped into the shape of Yuuri Katsuki’s soft cheek and soft eyes.

Victor stands from the bath and he feels heavy. Like the brown eyed presence lingering in the corner of his mind is a physical weight pressing down on his shoulders. He has no time for distractions. Today is the beginning of what might be his end. If Victor is going to make it out of this thing alive, he needs to be present.

Why had he allowed himself to fall into Yuuri Katsuki’s palm so willfully? Victor was no fool. He simply needed to push thoughts of the boy away from his mind. Soon, they would be tossed into the arena and Victor would kill Yuuri. One pleasant night together doesn’t detract from that.

There is a banging on his door that informs him that Yuri and Yakov have come to collect him. Victor abandons thoughts of Yuuri and shuts his mind down, one cell at a time, until there is nothing left but thoughts of the arena. Until Victor _is_ the arena.

\--

All of the tributes are loaded onto the plane that will fly them straight into the heart of the arena. Victor can practically taste the nervous tension in the air, but it hardly scratches the surface of the shell he has drawn up around himself. There is no point to nervousness. Either Victor will win, once more, or he will be slain.

Yuuri Katsuki is a few paces away from him. Victor had been aware of his presence as soon as he entered the plane. Though Victor has now decided to treat him just like any other competitor, he can’t help but to wonder just what Yuuri had been getting at with his behavior at the banquet. Victor is nearly certain now that Yuuri had been intending to seduce Victor to his side and then betray him later. But now, Yuuri was making no attempts at communicating with Victor. He wouldn’t even look at him.

Almost as if he had heard his thoughts, Yuuri glances over his shoulder and his eyes meet Victor’s. Just beyond the deep sadness and resignation, Victor spies a spark of recognition. There is a certain thrill that Victor finds in that single instance before Yuuri looks away again. Impossibly, Victor is almost tempted to call his name, but he smothers the impulse. He remembers where he is, who he is, and what he is meant to do.

The banquet had been a single moment of weakness and damn Yuuri Katsuki for so thoroughly coaxing it outward. Yuuri Katsuki is weak and he is feeble and he will be one of the first to fall. But in a single encounter, he had chiseled right to Victor’s core and made a nest there.

The truth is, that Yuuri Katsuki makes Victor want to be soft, again. But that is the one luxury left on this planet that not even Victor could afford.

Beside him, Yuri Plisetsky’s smile is mostly teeth. Vicious. Like a rabid animal chained to a wall by only a thin strand of cord. The only thing keeping him from turning that rabid look inward is a projection of his aggression onto others. Unfortunately for Yuuri Katsuki, he is an easy target.

“I never thought I would live to see the day I saw a pig fly.” Yuri snarls cruelly, glancing over across the plane to where Yuuri Katsuki stands twitching nervously by the sealed hatch. Yuuri Katsuki flinches and for a moment, Victor feels sorry for him. But then he reminds himself that feeling sorry for someone who he would soon kill is a weakness. And Victor is not weak. Yuuri Katsuki, however, is _very_ weak.

Yuuri Katsuki’s profile photo had been taken with intention. His eyes are soft and his cheeks are softer. Flushed with childhood in a way that paints a picture of innocence. There is a delicacy there in his features. Delicate like damp tissue paper. Butterfly wings. It frightens Victor. He and Yuuri are only four years apart in age, but in this photograph, Yuuri looks incredibly young.

“I wonder how he will die…” Yuri whispers beside him, studying Yuuri Katsuki’s face with a precise cruelty that Victor recognizes as learned behavior. “Maybe he’ll get skewered like the pig he is.”

Normally, Victor would have found macabre joy in playing this game. But something about Yuuri Katsuki has left Victor unsettled and he doesn’t wish viciousness upon this almost stranger. Instead he offers this: “If he has any luck, he’ll be one of the first to go. If he’s stubborn, he’ll make for the caves.”

Yuri nods, humming along in agreement as his sharp little nails clicked on the side of the tablet. Contemplating. Planning. “Yes, that would make sense. It will make it easy to isolate and take him out later. What we need to concern ourselves with is larger prey. Like that Jean Jaques Le-Fuckhead.”

“You shouldn’t call them prey, Yuri. They’re people.”

Yuri scoffs. “Prey. Victims. Fatalities. It’s all the same.” He crosses his arms and toes the ground with his shoes. “It’s either them or me, and it's not going to be me! And that goes for you, too. I’m going to take you down, Nikiforov!”   


Victor sighs in exasperation and turns his attention away from Yuri’s antics. He tries to find some semblance of pity for the boy. Victor had been like that once, too. Years ago when he had played in his first Grand Prix. Now, Victor is jaded. Old and tired. He’s killed for years now and it lost its wonder not long after it began.

The vermillion smeared sky feels like an omen. But Victor is not a superstitious man.


	2. Yuuri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a shorter one because after watching the new Black Mirror interactive special, I really wanted to try a choose your own adventure format for this story. At the end of each chapter, there will be a poll that you can fill out to determine how the story proceeds. I'll give the poll a good week or two to accumulate responses and when the time is up, I'll take the most popular response and write the next chapter accordingly. The next chapter will be much longer once I have responses!
> 
> I really thought that this format would be really fun for a Hunger Games AU, and I hope that yall do too!
> 
> Let me know if yall have trouble opening the poll!

In a different life, in a different place, Victor and Yuuri might have belonged to each other.

This is what Yuuri thought as he met Victor’s cold eyes across the plane. Little Yuri Plisetsky is by Victor’s side, no doubt dripping poison into his ears about the terrible violence that he intends to let loose as soon as the plane drops them at the center of the arena.

Victor is beautiful in a curious way. Delicacy warring with severity. Like bits of gossamer turned stone. Yuuri wants to turn his beauty over in his palm, inspect every inch of him. Know him fully.

Back when Yuuri had been a child and he hadn’t realized quite how horrific the Grand Prix was, he had been a fan of Victor. He had found him beautiful. Now, as an adult standing in a plane destined to his death, Yuuri finds nothing beautiful in the horror of this metal prison. And after last night, when he had permitted himself only a moment of softness with Victor, he had closed himself off to Victor’s beauty in much the same way.

Like ripping off a bandaid.

Yuuri glances back towards Victor and meets Yuri Plisetsky’s gaze. He is nothing more than a child, and yet the cruelty boiling over in his eyes speaks volumes of the horror he is capable of. When the plane lands, Yuri Plisetsky will be a caged animal set loose. Yuuri makes note to stay far away from him.

Yuuri makes notes to stay away from plenty of things.

Yuuri Katsuki and Yuri Plisetsky were very different creatures. Yuuri Katsuki had not wanted to compete in the Grand Prix. His district was small and many of the people were starving. His family’s iron forge was one of the few that hadn’t collapsed due to a sheet lack of people to man it. The monetary award for competing in the Grand Prix was astronomical. The award for winning was doubly so. His family needed the money and Yuuri was dead weight. Deciding to enter had been a no brainer.

The banquet had been a moment of weakness. The last one he would allow himself to have before the cruelty of the Grand Prix would harden him.

The plane jolts and Yuuri scrambles to hold on as it begins its slow descent. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He swings a wild gaze around the plane to see that the other competitors are preparing themselves similarly: sizing each other up. He can see Yuri Plisetsky looking at JJ with contemptuous eyes. Yuuri understands that they will be the first to fight.

Once the plane lands, Yuuri will be faced with a decision. In the center of the field, right across from the plane’s entrance, was a cornucopia of supplies. Food, weapons, tents...everything that any of the competitors could need to survive the arena for several days. However, those supplies were a trap. With so many competitors rushing towards the same place, it would be an all out brawl and many would die fighting over scraps of food.

However, to run for the forest would leave Yuuri without any supplies. He would have to make due with his bare hands and the waterproof jacket that had been provided to all of the tributes. His chance of survival should anyone find him would be slim at best.

The plane jolted one final time and the large metal gate that kept it closed shook as it began to open.

It was time to make a decision.  

 

[Make a Decision](https://goo.gl/forms/WnMIH48FWcYVvIQ42)

 

Current Results:

[](https://imgur.com/U8gykLR)


	3. Yuuri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I actually got a lot of responses last night on the poll, so I decided to go ahead and close it and post the next small chapter since the responses began to slow down. 
> 
> I posted the current results on the previous chapter. Do you guys like that, or would it be better to not know how the poll is doing? 
> 
> Also, do yall prefer shorter, more frequent chapters, or longer chapters but slower updates?
> 
> Since this is my first time doing something like this, I would appreciate any feedback!
> 
> And thank you to everyone who answered on the last poll! I'm having so much fun keeping up with the results!

Final result: 

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/NHwAdoR)

 

The plane docks and Yuuri doesn’t hesitate to make a break for the tree line, trying to put as much distance between himself and the mass of bodies fighting for supplies as possible. His heart was in his throat, but he forced himself to keep moving. He was taking a big risk, running away from the supplies, but he would just have to make due. It wouldn’t be worth it to try and fight against the larger tributes who would easily be able to topple Yuuri on pure strength, alone. 

Luckily for Yuuri, what he lacked in bulk, he made up for in speed. 

There was screaming behind him, the sound of breaking bones and horror. He chanced only one glance behind himself to see Victor gutting a tribute with a spear he must have picked up. He shudders and turns his face back to the trees, putting all of his energy into his legs, pushing himself to get to safety before any of the other tributes notices that he’s gone. 

He’s almost there, almost to the trees. Only a few more meters. 

Suddenly, Yuuri is knocked down by a huge force on his back. He goes down with a scream, twisting around as quickly as he could to come face to face with whoever is attacking him. 

Yuri Plisetsky. 

He’s grinning widely, viciously, sharp little teeth bared. His cheek is dotted with blood, already, and Yuuri can tell from the gleam in his eye that he has already taken someone down. He’s riding on the high of his first kill and Yuuri hopes that he can use that to his advantage. Despite how erratically his heart is beating and how desperately Yuuri wants to run away, he forces himself to stay completely still, palms flat on the ground, nails digging into the mud. 

“Well, well, Piggy…” Yuri snarls. “Looks like I’m going to get to skewer you, after all.”  

Yuuri glances at the pack on Yuri’s back. It was obviously prepared by the Grand Prix committee, sleeping bag strapped on the back of it and a water flask tucked into the pocket. The resources would be invaluable. Yuuri needed that pack. 

Yuuri waits, counting his breaths. Above him, Yuri begins to press his forearm against Yuuri’s throat, putting his entire body weight into it. Because Yuuri had managed to completely relax his body, the restriction doesn’t come as a surprise. He waits. One moment. Two moments. Yuri is much smaller than Yuuri. Thin. Yuuri should be able to knock him over even if Yuri’s entire body weight is pressed against him. He slowly allowed his fingers to dig more firmly into the dirt, planting his feet.

Then, he throws himself forward, toppling Yuri over. Yuri screams when he crashes to the ground, the movement having come as a complete surprise. He attempts to scramble to his feet, but Yuuri is faster, kicking him swiftly in his gut several times, winding him. 

It wouldn’t be worth the time to kill him, so Yuuri quickly yanks the backpack off of him, shoulders it, and bolts towards the trees. He’s lost much of his time advantage over the other tributes, but with the pack heavy on his back, he can’t regret it. 

“I’ll kill you, Piggy!” Yuri shrieks behind him, still slumped on the ground clutching his stomach. “I’ll make you fucking wish you were never born!” 

Yuuri ignores him, charging forward. Beside him, another tribute goes down, a knife in his back. Yuuri pauses only long enough to yank it free from his dying corpse before he carries on. 

He doesn’t stop until the clearing is far behind him, the sound of screaming replaced with the still quiet of the forest. 

The cannon fires near constantly, announcing death after death. He glances down at the monitor strapped on his wrist. Almost half of the tributes have fallen. Yuuri hardens his heart against it. He can’t afford to care. 

Instead, his mind is quickly trying to strategize. In the brief moments that the tributes were allowed to view a map of the arena, Yuuri had made note of a long river that travels nearly through the entirety of the southern sector. Yuuri would need fresh water. 

But then again, everyone would need water. 

He could either head towards the river immediately and try to locate a hiding place before the rest of the tributes could manage to get there, or he could circle around and hide for now, waiting for it to grow dark before attempting to get closer to the river. 

He had to make a decision.

 

 [Make a Decision](https://goo.gl/forms/IQQolmJAJFXbBDFJ3)


	4. Yuuri and Victor

Final result:

 

[ ](https://gyazo.com/b378024dc886d4c4c3af94a130ab27d0)

 

Yuuri hears a branch snapping off to his right and makes the decision to find a hiding spot, immediately. There isn’t much that he’ll be able to do with a knife and a heavy pack strapped to his back, and he had already lost his time advantage. There wasn’t much point in heading to the river immediately when he could use this time to scope out his surroundings. He would wait until nightfall before attempting to fill his water canteen.

He scans his surroundings and makes note of a rather thick tree. The branches are high but sturdy. If he could manage to climb the tree, no one would be able to get to him. He racks his brain, cold sweat dotting his hairline.

The cannon goes off, again. Someone else has died.

The fighting must be dying down by the clearing. Yuuri needs to act quickly before the other tributes start heading his way.

“I hope this works…” Yuuri mumbled to himself, taking the pack from his back and extending the straps so that they’re as wide as the can get. Then, Yuuri swings the pack in front of him, around the base of the tree, a strap in each hand.

He sends a quick prayer that the pack is strong enough to support his weight and slowly begins to shimmy up the trunk, pulling the straps taut every time he manages to get a little higher. It takes some time and by the time Yuuri is within reaching distance of the lowest branch, he is out of breath and his arms are shaking, but he makes it.

Once he is firmly leaning back against the trunk, safely hidden above ground on a sturdy branch, he sends a mental thank you to Minako for all of the upper body training she had put him through before he had left his district.

 _“You’re not bulky, Yuuri…”_ She had informed him. _“But there are things that you can train to your advantage. You need to get good at two things: running and climbing. That is what will keep you safe.”_

At the time, he had thought that any training would be hopeless. Yuuri had never been particularly good at thinking on his feet, and the routine monotony of the iron forges hadn’t required him to be. He had thought that he would be too mentally weak to even make it this far. When Yuri Plisetsky had compared him to a pig off to slaughter, Yuuri had agreed with him.

But now, arms sore but safe in the tree, Yuuri is grateful that even in his panic, he had managed to think rationally. He hopes that Minako was watching and that she is proud.

He allows himself only a few moments of rest before he pulls the knife out of the pack. He needed to keep himself busy or he was positive that he would fall into a panic. The bark of the tree seemed soft enough that Yuuri should be able to carve into it relatively easily. He swings his body around so that he is facing the trunk. Then, he carefully sets to work peeling the bark off in small sheets, only stopping when he has a decent pile in his lap. Then, he sets to work slicing the sheets into thin strands, braiding those strands together until he has a sturdy coil of rope wrapped around his wrist.  

By the time he is finished, the sun is beginning to sink, casting the sky in the color of blood. Yuuri’s stomach is growling, but after rummaging through the pack, he doesn’t find any food and deems his hunger insignificant, for now. It was more important that he find water.

He glances at the sky one last time and makes the decision to rest for a few hours until the sun is completely down. With any luck, exhaustion will hit the other tributes while Yuuri is making his way towards the river.

He uncoils the rope from around his wrist and wraps it around his waist, instead, tying it to the branch that he is sitting on so that he isn’t able to move very much. This will ensure that he doesn’t fall out of the tree while he is sleeping.

Then, though his heart is still hammering away in his chest, he closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep.

\----

This is nowhere near Victor’s first time in a Grand Prix. Through his many years of experience, Victor has learned a few things. The first, is that he needs to get his hands on as many supplies as possible. The next, is that he needs to set up his camp as close to the river as possible.

Stepping off of the plane for Victor is like taking a deep breath for the first time in a year. Victor knows the arena. Understands it. He doesn’t particularly enjoy participating in the Grand Prix, but fighting and killing is something that is easy to him like nothing else is. In the arena, Victor doesn’t have to think about sponsorships or etiquette or photoshoots or hiding his trauma. In the arena, Victor wields his hurts and his trauma like a weapon. In the arena there is only one rule: kill or be killed.

Luckily, his reputation precedes him and there are few tributes who attempt to confront him once the plane docks. The field is a mass of bodies, all crashing into each other. All scrambling for supplies. Victor quickly overlooks the large piles that are purposefully arranged in the field, already knowing that these are merely traps meant to force tributes to confront each other.

Instead, Victor keeps his eyes to the ground, quickly scanning the grass for supplies that he knows from experience are hidden there. After a few moments, he locates a spear and moves to quickly grab it.

Once Victor has the spear in his hands, the other tributes give him plenty of space. The only person who dares to confront him is a tribute from the oceanic district. Victor makes quick work of him, stripping both his jacket and his pack from his dead body before calmly making his way towards the forest.

He knows from experience that the field is practically useless. Many tributes will struggle for dominance over the many piles of supplies but they will quickly realize that none of the supplies contain any useful water or food. The tributes will be forced into the forest whether they like it or  not. Many will be dead by nightfall.

Victor is calm and steady as he jogs towards the trees, pack slung across his back and spear heavy in his palms.

“V-Victor!” A voice shrieks behind him. “Wait up, you geezer!”

Victor swings around, spear at the ready and eyes fierce. He bares his teeth in a snarl, arms tensed and ready to strike whoever is behind him at a moments notice.

He forces himself to relax his muscles when he sees that it is only Yuri Plisetsky. His face is smeared with blood and mud and his hair is slipping from its ponytail, but he doesn’t appear to have any supplies.

“What do you want, Yura?” Victor asks with false pleasantry, even as his eyes scan Yuri’s form, taking note of where the best place to strike would be. “It doesn’t look like you’re doing well.”

Yuri spits a mouthful of blood out of the corner of his mouth, snarling like a rabid animal. “That fucking pig took my supplies. Let me follow you for a while until I can figure out how I’m going to skin him alive.”

Victor sighs. “You know that isn’t a good idea, Yura.”

Yuri grimaces. “Look, I get it. I won’t get in the way, I promise. And if I do, you can kill me.”

Victor pauses to think it over. It would be beneficial to have another body to use as a decoy should any of the tributes decide to confront him. Victor remembers that working quite nicely during his second round of the Grand Prix. Eventually, he nods. “Fine. But I’m only doing this out of loyalty to Yakov. If you die in the first day, you will have disgraced him.” Here, Victor pauses and levels Yuri with a serious look. “But you must understand understand that if you get in my way, I will kill you.”

Yuri swallows thickly, but nods. “I understand.”

Victor nods behind himself. “Then follow me. We’re heading to the river.”

Yuri jogs to catch up. “Wouldn’t it be better to wait before going there?”

Victor glances over his shoulder before turning his eyes forward, again. “We all must head to the river. It doesn’t matter when you do it, the river will always be crawling with tributes. It's better to do it and scope out where the most secluded area is while the other tributes are still fighting over supplies back in the clearing.”

Yuri grumbles at the mention of the clearing. “I’m going to fucking kill that pig.”

Victor nods. “Someone will have to. Although…” He glances over his shoulder, once more. “If you lost to him, then that says more about your own strength. He could have killed you.”

“Yeah, I get it. I made a mistake. Next time, though, I’m going to make that pig _squeal_.” Yuri hisses.

Before long, they make it to the river and Victor easily locates a small gathering of boulders that looks obscure enough to hide the two of them through the night. Once he is satisfied, Victor orders Yuri to fill the three canteens he finds in the pack and then offers to take the first watch while Yuri gets some sleep.

Victor sighs, disappointed, when Yuri agrees easily, leaning back against one of the boulders and falling asleep quickly. He should know better than to trust Victor. Victor is a national champion. He could kill Yuri in his sleep before the blonde even has presence of mind enough to realize what is happening.

He decides not to. Victor determines that the fact that Yuri trusts him might come in handy later. He decides to leave it. Leaning back against one of the boulders, Victor keeps his eyes on the river in front of him, watching to see if the trees are disturbed by any movement. He keeps his spear across his lap, loosely held in his hands.

He stays like that for several hours, body tense and eyes scanning the trees. The sun sets quickly and before long, it is dark and Victor is still watching the trees. In the time that he has been watching, the cannon has fired several more times. The tributes will begin heading to the river, soon, and so he cannot allow himself to relax.

He sees the grass move at the edge of the treeline in a way that cannot be the wind. Someone is there.

Slowly, Victor moves into a crouch. It is dark enough that he should be difficult to spot from where he is crouched beside the large boulder. He decides to strike as soon as the tribute in the grass gets close enough to the river. He glances beside himself to see that Yuri is still deeply asleep. He remains disappointed.

The grass moves again and Victor’s eyes snap to the treeline. Whoever is there, is moving slowly. Close to the ground. Carefully.

Victor commends the stranger for the effort. If it had been anyone else, it would have been easy to write the movement of the grass off as wind. But Victor knows better.

It takes only a few moments for a head to poke out, shaggy black hair and blue rimmed glasses.

Yuuri Katsuki.

Victor blinks in shock and grips his spear a little tighter. Yuuri must have waited for night time before trying to sneak to the river, hoping that his dark features would leave him relatively difficult to spot in the dark.

He was wrong.

Victor shuffles forward, hands steady and breaths even.

A twig snaps.

Yuuri's eyes dart upwards and meet Victor's. 

There is a decision to make.

 

[Make a Decision](https://goo.gl/forms/iUUHzSp3mJK2rEJx1)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my gosh the poll yesterday was sooooo close for such a long time. I literally checked it every few minutes because I was so excited to see which response would win. 
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone who commented last chapter! I really enjoy reading your feedback and knowing that you're enjoying everything!


	5. Yuuri and Victor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yall...oh my god...the poll was literally 50/50 for both choices ALL day yesterday. It was sooooo close. I decided to give it a few more hours to see if maybe they would shift one way or the other and they eventually did. I can see how split yall were!
> 
> Also, in terms of posting the current rankings, most people voted to keep it a surprise, so I'll leave it like it is!
> 
> I hope you all have a happy new year and I look forward to chatting with yall in the comments!
> 
> See yall tomorrow for the next chapter!

Final results:

 

[](https://gyazo.com/e45164ce2ef2be813bb1935336823dbd) [](https://gyazo.com/96ed5570ad491dd1194f7d508e329168)

 

Yuuri glances up once the twig snaps under his feet, swinging his eyes around wildly as he tried to determine whether or not he had been discovered. His eyes meet another pair across the river and every hair on the back of his neck stands to attention, elbows locking and teeth gritted in fear. 

It’s Victor. 

He’s there, near a collection of boulders just on the other side of the narrow stream. The river is shallow enough here that it would take little effort for Victor to attack him. Yuuri sees the spear at his side, resting. Waiting. He swallows thickly and his eyes dart up to meet Victor’s. 

Victor’s eyes are cold. Calculating. Two pinpricks of molten ice shining in the darkness. Under the moonlight, Victor looks nearly fey, silver hair swept across his face like spun starlight and high cheekbones casting his face in shadow. Yuuri shivers when, unwarranted, a memory of the banquet night appears to him. Victor’s hair had been soft to the touch. Even spotted with dirt, Yuuri wonders if it would still be just as soft. 

He shakes his head to clear it. Victor is watching him, still. Yuuri’s hands begin to shake, so he clenches them into fists at his side. He has to be ready to strike. At any moment. It wouldn’t be wise to attempt to attack Victor without provocation. Yuuri isn’t nearly as large or as strong as Victor and will fall easily. He decides that he will only attack if Victor makes a move to follow suit. Then, Yuuri will run.

He inches the clammy fingers of one hand back to his pack, slowly urging the knife free of the pocket on the side. He hopes Victor doesn’t notice. 

Some time passes, the two of them watching each other. Sweat is beginning to dot Yuuri’s hairline and he wants to scream. Anything to get Victor to just  _ make a decision _ .

He doesn’t have to wait for much longer because Victor soon begins to lift his hand. Yuuri tenses and prepares himself, eyes darting quickly back and forth between that hand and the spear at Victor’s side. 

Shockingly, however, Victor does not reach for the spear. Instead, he raises his hand to his mouth, index finger pressed to his lips in a gesture that indicates  _ be quiet _ . Then, he jerks his chin over his shoulder, gesturing to something behind him. Yuuri hesitantly takes his eyes off of Victor long enough to see what Victor is wanting him to see. 

There, curled against the boulder just behind Victor, is a sleeping Yuri Plisetsky. 

Yuuri’s veins turn to ice and his eyes widen in shock. He remembers what Yuri had promised him when he had stripped the pack from his back. That he would make Yuuri wish that he had never been born. Yuuri has little doubt that if Yuri were to awaken and see Yuuri there, crouched in the mud nearly within reaching distance, that he would make good on his promise. And then some. 

Victor meets Yuuri’s eyes again and slowly gestures to the river, motioning for Yuuri to move forward. Yuuri understands that Victor isn’t going to hurt him. He can almost feel his heart swelling in gratitude. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes and he wants to sob in relief. He understood very clearly how close to death he just came. Victor could have fought him. Victor would have won. 

Yuuri inches closer to the water and slowly reached for his water canteen while Victor nods in approval. Before long, the canteen is full and Yuuri is back away into the grass. Before he disappears entirely, he levels Victor with a look that he hopes expresses his gratitude. 

Victor stares back, eyes steady. Yuuri understands what he means with that look.

There will be no next time. 

With his water secured, Yuuri needs to find a more secure base. The river is no longer safe, knowing that Victor has decided to camp there. Yuuri can either keep to the trees above ground, or he can begin to pick his way closer to the caves. The caves are much farther away and he runs the risk of running into other tributes, but he will be much safer there if he can manage to get there. 

He needs to make a decision. 

\---

Watching Yuuri disappear into the grass Victor gets the sense that he has made a mistake in letting him go. He would eventually have to kill Yuuri but it had felt wrong, somehow, doing it in that moment. He assumes that it was due to a lingering sense of loyalty that their brief tryst in the halls of the banquet had inspired. 

That, and if Yuri had discovered Yuuri, he would have unleashed utter hell. 

Victor does not take joy in killing. The Grand Prix is not sport to him. And so, when he is forced to kill, he does so quickly. With mercy. 

Yuri would not have given Yuuri a mercy kill. He would have made the boy suffer because Yuuri had made him feel shame and Yuri is not accustomed to shame. Victor did not want to be a participant in that inevitable confrontation. 

He glances behind himself and sighs. 

Yuri is dead weight, really. He has only lackluster skills and he hadn’t managed to secure any supplies in the clearing. The only loyalty Victor felt for him was really only for Yakov, their mutual coach. He had fulfilled his duty to Yakov by leading the boy to the river. Really, Victor didn’t owe him anything, anymore. That was the nature of the Grand Prix. Dog eat dog. 

He could disappear right now. Leave Yuri tucked away against the boulders while he slept. No one would find him, of that Victor was sure. 

Or, he could wait until Yuri woke. Protect him as long as he could. 

  
He thunks his head back against the boulder, wondering what decision was the  _ right _ one.

 

[Make a Decision](https://goo.gl/forms/t6TDZDrF1m6zULyk2)


	6. Victor and Yuuri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally wrote this at 6 am in the airport while waiting for my flight to board, so I apologize for any errors!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who voted in the poll yesterday! There were a total of 105 participants which is amazing! And also, thank you to everyone who left a comment trying to make a case for their voting decision. It was super interesting to read why yall decided to vote the way you did!
> 
> See you all tomorrow for the next chapter and I look forward to chatting with everyone in the comments!

Final result:

 

[](https://gyazo.com/5ea7fab814e93a617a036e2cb18609e9) [](https://gyazo.com/e94493f2e18d9dab023e2773aa30a51c)

 

Victor sighs heavily. He doesn’t really  _ want  _ to leave Yuri, but it’s either that or kill him, himself. He makes a decision. Hefting himself to his feet as quietly as he can, Victor grabs his spear and the pack. He digs through the pocket and locates a single protein bar and a pocket knife and tosses them down beside the sleeping youth. Victor knows how to hunt in the arena; he won’t need the protein bar as much as Yuri will. The kid’s overconfidence will hurt him. Deeply. He will struggle to survive without the charity of others. 

However, Victor can’t afford a liability clinging to his legs like a gangrenous fifth limb. The other tributes will be looking for Victor’s weakness. Once they figure out that Victor has allowed Yuri to trail him like an imprinted duckling, they will come for him. They will kill him. Slowly. In this arena are tributes who have lost loved ones to Victor. People whose sole purpose in entering was to take him down. In many ways, their lot included Yuri, as well. 

Victor hardens his heart and clenches his fists. He should leave before the impenetrable darkness has the chance to lighten into daylight. With one final glance at Yuri’s face, softened in sleep, Victor turns his back and steps across the river, crouching down low to hide himself amongst the tall grass. 

Slowly, he begins to pick his way towards the treeline, moving swiftly and silently. He only pauses long enough to pluck a small rock from the ground, rolling it over in his palm. Before he disappears, entirely, he turns to face Yuri, once more. He is far enough away that Yuri, in his sleep muddled confusion, will not be able to spot him. 

With a deep breath, Victor winds his arm back and send the rock flying, hitting Yuri square in the forehead. 

He waits on baited breath as Yuri slowly blinks awake. Once he realizes that he is alone, he scrambles to his feet, eyes swinging to and fro wildly. Even in the darkness, Victor can see the blood red tint that his face takes on as his anger swells. 

Satisfied that Victor hasn’t left Yuri a sitting duck, he turns and leaves, shrouded in the comfort of night, and Yuri’s enraged shrieks ringing in his ears.  

He almost hopes that the little bastard survives. 

\---

Yuuri’s breath is escaping in harsh pants as he jogs through the forest, knees bent as low to the ground as they can get while maintaining his speed. He can’t afford to slow down. There are only a few hours left of darkness and he has to get to the caves. The caves are safe. 

_ “Remember, Yuuri…”  _ Minako has instructed.  _ “If there are caves, run to them. They are deep and sturdy. Your job as a tribute is not only to survive the others. It is also to survive the  _ arena _.” _

Yuuri didn’t doubt her. Especially when overhead, a crack of lightning split the sky in two, lighting his path for a break moment before esconcing it in darkness, once more. He shudders when he pictures the lightning cracking against the tree he had made temporary camp in. It would have killed him near instantly and he would have brought unnamable shame to his district.  _ Yuuri Katsuki, killed by nature _ . 

He turns his attention back to his path. The ground is slowly becoming more rocky and less mossy, so Yuuri takes that as a sign that he is on the right path. He is lucky to have not come across another tribute. They all are most likely establishing their own bases, waiting for morning to shine on day two of the Grand Prix before the slither out like poisonous serpents. Yuuri is grateful for his stamina. He can’t afford to stop until he is safe. 

Eventually, the trees begin to fall away, becoming more scatter than densely packed. Up ahead, Yuuri spots a clustering of boulders that must be sheltering the entrance to a cave. He picks up the pace, jumping over a fallen a log, and makes it. 

He pauses only long enough to catch his breath before he crouches low to the ground, clinging to the side of the boulders as he begins to creep to the other side, peeking carefully to see if there are other tributes there before hurrying around. Thankfully, his efforts aren’t wasted and with some effort, he spots a clustering of boulders that form the entrance of a small cave. It’s perfect. Deep enough that Yuuri will be able to tuck himself inside, but not so deep that anyone will be waiting for him inside. 

Quickly, Yuuri glances around himself and begins to gather as many fallen branches and leaves as he could, dragging them over to the entrance of the cave until he is satisfied. 

Then, he crawls inside, placing his pack beside him, and uncoiling the length of rope he had braided earlier from around his wrist. 

Then, he sets to work braiding and tying bits of branch and leaves together. He pays attention to making sure that the gathering of materials looks natural, carefully moving the branches and leaves until their placement looks natural rather than systematic. He can barely see what he is doing in the darkness, but he squints and bears it, narrowing his focus to the movement of rope sliding through his fingers. 

By the time he is finished, he has something sturdy enough that he feels confident drawing it over the entrance to his cave. Hopefully, this will obscure the cave from anyone isn’t looking too hard. It won’t provide much protection, but it will at least encourage whoever passes by to simply overlook him. 

Yuuri’s hands are shaking with exhaustion by the time he has unrolled his sleeping bag, tugging it over his weary body. He allows himself a few shallow pulls of water from his canteen and when he is finished, he leans his head back against the rocky wall of his temporary camp. 

He decides to allow himself a few hours of rest, the adrenaline slowly fading leaving behind bone deep exhaustion. His eyes fall closed nearly against his will and without any coaxing, Yuuri falls into a light sleep, knife clutched in his fist. 

He sleeps. 

Until he hears a twig snap somewhere outside his cave. He blinks awake rapidly, scrambling into a crouch as quietly as he can. His mouth is dry and his vision is blurry with sleep, heart hammering away in his chest. He can feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing between his eyes. He pushes all of this to the side to inch closer to his makeshift door. 

He presses his face against the tiny gaps between branches, squinting his eyes as if that will help him see more clearly. 

There, in the distance, Yuuri spots a slight figure just beyond the trees. If the tributes decides to move any closer, Yuuri risks being discovered. 

He swallows thickly and grips his knife tightly. 

He can either sneak just past his cave, carve a wide path around the tribute and strike while their back is turned. Or. Or, Yuuri can wait and see if the tribute moves any closer and possibly avoid a confrontation. If he kills them, then he doesn’t have to worry about the tribute returning later, but that would mean Yuuri would have to rely on the element of surprise. If the tribute discovers him before he can strike, it is highly likely that he will be killed. 

He needs to make a decision.

 

[Make a Decision](https://goo.gl/forms/WjynV8EQHbFl19QG3)


	7. Yuuri and Yuri

Final result:

 

[ ](https://gyazo.com/e75108f4ae13db21699df9e3800693b1)

 

Yuuri swallows thickly, gripping his knife between sweat slicked hands. His grip is shaky, at best, so he pauses long enough to wipe his palms on the waterproof material of his pants before taking up his knife, once more. He can hear his heart beating in his ears and he grits his teeth in frustration because it means that he can’t hear anything else. Can’t hear the movements of the tribute ahead of him. 

But he can see them. 

They’re slight of build. Young. They’re crouched just within sight. Most likely, they are looking for a safe place to make camp. Yuuri could easily take them out. Could easily sneak up right behind them and slide his knife home in the soft space between ribs. It would be quick. Painless. His first kill. 

His breath comes out in harsh pants that he tries to stifle. Too noisy. 

Minako had warned him about this. Had told him not to get too caught up in misinterpreting his objective. His objective was not to kill, it was to  _ survive _ . If he could get by with only killing when absolutely necessary, if he could just be patient enough for that, then his chances of survival would be much higher. Let them pick each other off, she had said. The name of the game was patience. He realizes at once that he doesn’t want to kill the tribute. The thought makes him feel sick. He doesn’t want to kill, anyone. Yuuri Katsuki is not a killer. 

Yuuri closes his eyes for only a brief moment, trying to call up Minako’s face to the forefront of his memory. He misses her. It hasn’t even been a full twenty four hours and he misses her. Her calm certainty. 

He opens his eyes, again, and has made a decision. He will wait. He will pray that the tribute doesn’t come near. 

His eyes never leave the tribute, moving slowly amongst the trees. His heart is beating so loudly that he is nearly certain that the tribute can hear it. His hairline it dotted with sweat and eventually, a drop rolls down his forehead and into his eye, blinding him temporarily. 

When he opens his eyes again, the tribute is standing much closer. Still. They are looking for something. Inspecting. 

Yuuri holds his breath, clutches his knife closer, and prays.  

_ Please don’t come closer. Please leave. I don’t want to kill you. Please.  _

There is a whimper trying to claw its way up his throat, but he bites his tongue to keep it at bay. 

The tribute is still standing still.

“Please…” Yuuri mouths, hands shaking. “Please…”

Eventually, in the moments between his stuttering breaths and silent pleas, the tribute moves. They take one step forward. Pause. 

And then, they turn back around and begin to slowly pick their way back to the trees. 

Once they are out of sight, Yuuri gasps for breath, dropping the knife down beside him in the dirt and clutching his hair. He lifts the neck of his jacket to his mouth so he can muffle the sobs that drop from his lips without preamble. He realizes now, more than ever before, that he is not a killer. He had never wanted to kill the other tribute. 

“Thank you…” He whispers to whatever force had commanded that he stay in the cave. “Thank you…”

\---

When he finally calms enough to realize that screaming in the middle of a death forest in not a good idea, his shoulders are quivering. 

Victor…

Victor that absolute  _ worm _ .

When Yuri tracks him down...When he eventually picks his way through this forest and finds him...he’s going to make him  _ pay _ . He is going to make him suffer. 

He glances around himself, shoulders hunched. The sun is beginning to peak over the tops of the trees. He scoops up the protein bar that Victor had  _ graciously _ left behind and bites into it. He can almost hear Yakov’s voice demanding that he ration it, but he is too consumed by rage to stop himself from devouring the bar in its entirety.

When he is finished, he stands, dusts himself off, and grabs the pocket knife. He begins to walk along the river, deciding that Victor will most likely be sticking close to the only source of water in this entire arena. He is flexible enough and his frame is slight enough that he can stay relatively close to the ground, crouched low. 

He forcefully clears his head. Yakov had trained him for this. Had warned him time and time again that anger was not a useful tool. That it would dull and blind his senses. Yuri has always struggled with anger. Many things make him angry. And that anger makes him violent.

He had been born into violence. His mother had gone into labor early. Hadn’t been able to reach a hospital. She had cut Yuri out of her womb, herself. She had died shortly after, leaving Yuri to the care of his grandpa. 

Yuri had been born to violence. It had been the circumstances under which he can entered the world. It swirled in his veins and had given him life. 

And when he tracked down Victor and that absolute  _ pig _ , Yuri would gladly illustrate for them that fact. 

Up ahead, Yuri spies what looks like a small cluster of tributes. Two or three of them huddled around a campfire. 

He grips his pocket knife tightly. 

Yuri isn’t an idiot. He knows that he will have trouble surviving without the help of others. However, after Victor had abandoned him, Yuri finds himself hesitant to reach out to others. He could approach them, ask to join their group since they had obviously already established one, or he could go around them and carry on down the river. 

What should he do?

 

[Make a Decision](https://goo.gl/forms/mo7qd7Fdo0dvappB3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you to everyone who voted on the last poll! We had 128 participants which is so cool!
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone who commented, too! I think the comments explaining why you voted how you voted really helped others make a decision on how to vote and it actually was super interesting for me to read, too!
> 
> I look forward to seeing why yall chose what you chose in the comments this chapter, especially!


	8. Yuri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yall, sorry that this chapter is so short. School starts again for me tomorrow, so I've gotten a little behind while preparing for that. I'll be back tomorrow with a longer chapter! <3

Final result:

 

[ ](https://gyazo.com/76ffca28a728c904d9bcc93a46e0a022)

 

Yuri’s fists tighten unconsciously as he nears the group by the river. The closer he gets, the more he can distinguish them from each other. There are two males and a female. Both men are large, one tall and one bulky, while the female has bright red hair that shines like a beacon in the dense night air, the campfire making it appear more so.

Yuri sees them sitting there and immediately understands that he is both outweighed and outmanned. To confront them would be suicide and though Yuri can acknowledge that he will suffer without the help of others, he also understands that his powers of negotiation leave something to be desired. He understands at once that his best option for survival would be to sneak around them and hope that they don't notice.

Gathering his courage, Yuri crouches as low to the ground as he can get and holds his breath. Slowly, he starts moving forward, hesitating with every step to gauge whether or not the cracking of the damp leaves beneath his feet have exposed him. Eventually, he makes his way around, ducked down in the trees just beyond their site.

“I'm going to scan our surroundings, again.” The burly man announces, standing suddenly.

Yuri curses under his breath and stands perfectly still, daring not to move. 

“Otabek, you're so paranoid!” The red headed female sighs. “We haven't seen another tribute since we left the clearing. Besides, who would be stupid enough to attack a group of us?”

The male, named ‘Otabek,’ shrugs. “It doesn’t hurt to check. I’ll be back shortly.” 

Yuri shrinks as low to the ground as he can, slowly drawing the hood on his jacket up and over hs bright blonde hair. He prays that the dark jacket will help to obscure his presence. The male inches slowly around the trees nearby, eyes focused and stance tense. He is ready to strike at at any given moment. In his large fist, a knife is held loosely. As if he has had extensive practice with it.

Yuri unconsciously let’s a shuddered breath loose. He regrets it immediately because Otabek’s eyes fly to him, staring him down. Yuri backs himself up against the tree in fear, eyes wide and arms shaky. 

There is a choice to make here: he could wait where he is and pray that Otabek is benevolent, he can attempt to run away and pray that Otabek is not as fast as him, or he can try to strike a deal. 

He scrambles for his pocket knife. He fucking hates Victor with every ounce of his being, but at least that son of a bitch had left him with a weapon. 

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes only briefly, and makes a decision.

 

[Make a Decision](https://goo.gl/forms/xU0vbAeVdKCPqkoq2)


End file.
